Category: Poetry
Though oft-times ill-sifting memory with deft digits thickly draws Ashen grey curtains thwart my vagrant brain; She ne’er from me can hide thy face and form, Nor cloaked Oblivion, from streams of Lethe borne. Ensnare in sable trammel, behind her basalt doors Thy eyes, thy lips...
Then to my couch I bent my weary way, And deep in sage reflection sank my soul. Striving in halting phrases still to pray. Striving to purge my heart, my mind, my whole. Sinuous...
4. PART III.Hid in a tenebrose valley veiled by the mushroom pine, Aloof in the lathe of Morpheus—I know a sombre tomb Engraved on its brazen portal is enchiseled this mystic sign: “Behold...
7. PART VI.O Bridget! whose white skin is like to petals of the gladiola flower, Remember this, that from that destined hour When thou was christened, thou was named “POWER.” Power thou ha...
3. PART II.Lo! there in the Garden I behold my princess Yea! there in the Garden of Sleep. There in the Garden I fain would caress My lovely princess In the Garden of Sleep. ’Neath the jas...
5. PART IV.When Luna o’er the vault would fain hold sway Striving the steeds of Phœbus to assay; And he, the drifting racks with gilded spear had riven; With ochreous steeds coursing the p...
2. PART I.Though oft-times ill-sifting memory with deft digits thickly draws Ashen grey curtains thwart my vagrant brain; She ne’er from me can hide thy face and form, Nor cloaked Oblivio...
1. PART VI TO BRIDGET: AN APOLOGIA } 31